


make you feel it

by Anonymous



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, College, Face-Fucking, M/M, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 02:07:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17194493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: "You're so fuckin' loud," Aaron yells through the wall, yanking his earphones out and glaring at the thin drywall separating him and his insane, hyper, irritating-ass roommate. He knows for a fact Bregman’s lying in bed on the other side. "It's two in the fuckin' morning, Bregs, shut the fuck up. Some of us are trying to sleep."





	make you feel it

College is great. Being a college ballplayer is great. Aaron is three weeks into his junior year at LSU and, despite the already-impending econ exam, general impending doom of Hell Week, and knowledge that scouts with radar guns will be watching his every move, has no complaints.  
  
Except:  
  
"You're so fuckin' loud," Aaron yells through the wall, yanking his earphones out and glaring at the thin drywall separating him and his insane, hyper, irritating-ass roommate. He knows for a fact Bregman’s lying in bed on the other side, music blasting, his own earphones somewhere in the vicinity of his desk. He deeply, truly regrets everything that’s led them both to this point. "It's two in the fuckin' morning, Bregs, shut the fuck up. Some of us are trying to sleep."  
  
"Wow," Bregman yells back. "Didn't know you could curse like that, nice Christian boy like you."

Bregman’s incapable of shutting up. Bregman is also on the baseball team, and, considering his recent national shortstop of the year award, vital to their chances of winning games. Aaron, both cognizant of the fact infielders are important for his ERA and that win-loss record still matters for some people evaluating pitching, can’t strangle him in search of some blessed peace and quiet. Unfortunately.

It’s been three weeks together and it hasn’t gotten any better. Bregman’s freshman roommate ditching him should have been a goddamn tell. Aaron gets up and pushes open Bregman’s door, then throws his pillow at Bregman’s smirking face. "Choke on my dick, motherfucker."  
  
"That a fucking challenge?" Bregman asks, like he doesn't take everything as one, like he isn’t stupidly competitive to the point of absurdity. "Make me, asshole."  
  
And Aaron shouldn't — they're gonna have to live with each other for the next eight months — but it'll be hell for him either way. He gets across the room in two quick strides, grabs Bregman's shoulder and yanks at him until he's sitting more or less upright.  
  
"Oh, shit," Bregman says, reluctantly impressed.  
  
Aaron isn't hard but he takes his dick out through the slit in his boxers, strokes his hand over it a couple times until it stiffens up. He's got the edge on Bregman, size-wise, knowledge gleaned from a year of sharing the same locker room. He wouldn't care, except he bets Bregman absolutely does.  
  
"This enough to shut you up?" Aaron asks, guiding himself closer and closer to Bregman's mouth, until his cockhead is practically resting on Bregman's lower lip and Bregman hasn't said a goddamn word. "Wow, guess so, who'd’ve— ah—"  
  
Bregman's tongue darts out, curling over the head, and Aaron inhales sharply through his nose. His hips twitch forward. Bregman's mouth falls open as Aaron eases his way in, and he looks up, face smug at Aaron's shock, even in the pale grey light of his bedroom.  
  
That's not how this is supposed to go.  
  
Aaron gets as much of a grip as he can on Bregman's short hair, taking back leverage. He thrusts hard into Bregman’s mouth, until he can hear whatever muffled noise Bregman was going to make, shoves that noise right back down his throat.  
  
"Takin' it pretty easy, huh," Aaron says, snaps his hips forward again. "Guess I'm not the only one who figured out this was the best way to get you to stop talking. Jesus Christ. It's like living with a, a mosquito, or — _shit_ ." Bregman is gagging around his cock, his eyes are squeezed shut, and Aaron wasn't wrong when he said _taking it,_ because Bregman is, letting Aaron fuck in so far he's practically hitting the back of his throat. He’s never done that before — no one’s ever let him do it. He can’t believe it’s his loudmouthed asshole of his roommate sucking his cock down like a pro.

A pro probably wouldn’t be drooling so much, though, sloppy, spit sliding down Aaron’s dick and over his balls. Aaron pulls back and Bregman coughs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He glares balefully up at Aaron, but this time he doesn’t say a word.

Aaron takes a deep breath. Bregman does the same, and then Aaron wraps a hand around his dick and guides himself in again, doesn’t push quite so far as he did before. He settles into more of a rhythm, Bregman’s head bobbing up and down, lips moving slickly over his cock. Bregman’s hands are fisted in his sheets, skin white at the knuckles. There’s an outside chance that he’s hard in his pajama pants. Aaron isn’t gonna look down and see for sure.

He reaches out again and digs his fingers into Bregman’s shoulder, lets Bregman set more of the pace now that the only noise Bregman is managing are soft grunts, the occasional sharp breath in through his nose. Aaron’s closer than he should be, considering the circumstances. Considering who’s doing this to him, that there’s every chance Bregman will bring it up at breakfast in six hours and never shut up again for the rest of their natural lives.

Aaron’s in this deep now, though, too. He closes his eyes and lets the orgasm build, gets his hand back into Bregman’s hair and thrusts hard again. He can feel the heat in his belly, can feel his dick pulsing in Bregman’s mouth and yeah, it’d be polite to warn Bregman he’s about to come, but it’s also polite to not play your goddamned music at two in the morning.

His hips stutter a couple times and he comes thickly down Bregman’s throat. He bites hard into his bottom lip, muffling a groan, because they’ve got a third roommate and _Aaron_ knows how to be fucking quiet. Bregman swallows around him and Aaron lets himself savor it, listening to the sounds of their breath in the late-night air.

Aaron pulls out, tucking his softening dick back into his boxers, and Bregman makes a face, reaching for the Gatorade bottle on his nightstand. He swigs some down and still doesn’t say a word. When Aaron looks down he can absolutely see where Bregman’s pajama pants are distended, his erection pushing out the waistband. Bregman follows his gaze and looks down too, his cheeks flushed pink.

“If you’re gonna jack off try and do it fucking quietly,” Aaron says, and grabs his pillow from where it’s fallen on Bregman’s mattress. He leaves the room.

When he’s back in his own bed, changed into clean boxers, he looks down at his headphones where he left them on the nightstand. He can’t hear Bregman jerking it — no obnoxiously showy moans, not even the sound of skin on skin. Doesn’t mean it’s not happening, Aaron tells himself. The music hasn’t started back up either. Just means Bregman took his message to heart.

Aaron closes his eyes and falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Aaron Nola and Alex Bregman were [roommates](https://www.chron.com/sports/astros/article/Ex-LSU-roommates-Alex-Bregman-Aaron-Nola-meet-up-13080100.php) in college for one year. Their attitude seems very like [That Happened](http://www.lsusports.net/ViewArticle.dbml?DB_OEM_ID=5200&ATCLID=211734538), or, according to Bregman, "normal college shit".


End file.
